Crowley in a Christmas Carol
by JeffersonianGirl2004
Summary: "Christmas, Bah Humbug." That was what Crowley thought about Christmas; well at least he did think that before three ghosts visited him. SEASON 11, Slightly AU. 6 DAYS 'TILL CHRISTMAS!


_AN: I don't own Supernatural and if I did the characters would get all of the love that they deserve._

 _Okay so I continue my lead up to Christmas with the second story. It's the 19th of December and it's time for the Supernatural one-shot!_

 _Okay midseason finale: I'm super annoyed about all of the Lucifer cage stuff coming back but Lucifer's final line, "Top bunk, bottom bunk or we can share!" was actually pretty memorable and I rather enjoyed Mark's portrayal too!_

 _Enjoy!_

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 **CHRISTMAS EVE, DECEMBER 24** **TH** **2015**

"That bloody girl!" That was Crowley, the King of Hell's initial reaction as he gazed around the room in the mental asylum that had previously housed Amara, the Darkness. Only recently had she escaped at the hands of the Winchesters.

"Sir I think that this most probably for the best," a common black eyed member of Crowley's demon help announced as he walked toward his master.

"I'd put a damn sock in it if I were you," the King muttered. Usually he'd snap an irritating demon's neck but today he didn't feel like it. You could say that Christmas magic might even be affecting the King of Hell in the slightest of ways.

"Yes Sir I was just thinking that Amara is taking too much of your valuable energy away from the courts matters. A bit like, dare I say, that entire ordeal with Dean Winchester last year."

"I told you to SHUT YOUR FACE!" Crowley screamed, loosing all cool, and thrusting his hand forward in an upward motion in order to snap the demon's neck.

The help fell lifeless to the floor and Crowley let out a sigh. In the court of Hell you really needed to be careful what you said.

X-X-X-X

Crowley let out a low groan and shook his head. He was meant to be the King of Hell but he felt more like a CEO to an advertising corporation. The Christmas Appeal, that was what his demons had planned. It was hell, they weren't supposed to celebrate Christmas, they were meant to despise it.

Anyhow the aim of the Christmas Appeal was to have demons possess in-store Santa's in order to make deals with the children who came to see them. Devious, yes, Crowley liked that but he hated Christmas. He had always hated Christmas and that all linked back to his pig of a mother.

That Night...

"Get back to work you bloody demons!" Crowley seethed through his teeth as he peered at his minions.

The King sipped his scotch and glanced at the demons before him. They were all tapping at their Surface Pros, on which they were jotting down the soul count of 2015. He supposed that they were efficient at times but they could also become real handfuls.

Crowley took another sip and then another and before long his eyelids began to grow heavy and his vision began to blur.

"Fergus! Fergus! Fergus stop ignoring me you bloody boy. I'm your mother!" A strong Scottish accent rung out through Crowley's head and the demon let out a long anguished groan.

"Mother what are you doing here? Wait I though you were undercover sporting a blonde wig."

"Ach you've been conversing with those damn Winchester's too much my dear." She began with a flutter of her long eyelashes. "Well stop giving me that look, I suppose that I might not really be here but yeh imagination is envisioning me for a reason and I'm here to tell you some news!"

Crowley scratched at the back of his head confusedly; honestly he hadn't really had that much to drink. "So you say you're here to tell me some news. As if you have ever told me anything important."

Great he was talking to his imagination now.

"Well Fergus now we've got the greetin's out the way we can get down to business." Rowena walked across the room toward her son. Her long red hair fell in ringlets down her back and she was clothed in a long form fitting black gown. She pursed her thin red lips and ran some manicured nails through her hair. "Yeh see I'm here tonight to tell you that you are going to visited by three ghosts. The ghost of Christmas past, the ghost of Christmas present and the ghost of Christmas future."

"Well that was bloody riveting." Crowley sipped his scotch yet again and shook his head. "Honestly if you have nothing important to say you can get bloody lost, you hear me?"

The witch wrinkled her pointed nose and shrugged. "Believe it or not Fergus you've found yerself in a bloody Christmas carol!"

And with that she disappeared. Crowley peered down at his now empty glass, it had to be just some stupid trick.

X-X-X-X

"Father, father!" A young male Scottish accent boomed through the throne room.

Crowley looked up from a scroll that he had been writing and was honestly surprised to find his eyes cast over his son, Gavin Macleod.

"Gavin if you're here for money I'm not your personal trust fund. I might have let you live but that was only due to a partial blood transfusion."

The dark haired boy peered up at the man, obviously confused. "Father I don't know what you mean by that but tonight I'm here to take you on a journey." His accent seemed to get thicker with every word.

"Is this more of that rubbish from before because I'm not BLOODY INTERESTED!"

"Father this isn't any old rubbish." After a moment Gavin gave up, "just come with me."

And begrudgingly Crowley stepped with Gavin into a tunnel of light.

X-X-X-X

 _"But mother all of the children in the village get at least one thing at Christmas. Please mother!" Fergus Macleod's voice rung out across the dirtied kitchen table._

 _Rowena Macleod glanced over at her son and rolled her large green eyes. "Ach Fergus stop being such a bloody little complainin' git! Yeh see I'm a single mother, it's just you and me and I am taking all of the kindness that I can scrounge in order to actually put a roof over your spoiled little head. I don't want you, you're a waste of my time and everythin' I was going to have has crumbled because of your bloody existence." The redhead paused and collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs. "Fergus go get me a scotch, be a good little boy."_

"Where are we?" Crowley asked tiredly.

"Just look around father. Do you recognise anything here?"

"We can't be here, this room, it can't still be standing. It has to be over three hundred years old!" Crowley glanced around the room and suddenly the architecture was the very least of the shock. He saw himself, well himself in his true vessel, back when he was still a child. He also saw Rowena. The redhead looked the same, all except for the nicer clothing that she now wore in the twenty-first century.

"Well I am the ghost of Christmas past father, and this is your Christmas past." Gavin paused and glanced around the room before he turned back to his father. "Wow I thought me Christmases were bad, yours were about a million times worse."

Crowley was no longer paying any attention to what the young man was saying. He watched as the younger version of himself tried to catch his mother's attention. The child seemed to be begging for a present but the witch seemed to be somewhere else. As Crowley watched his mother he saw something that he had never seen before. His mother was crying. Tears streaked her cheeks and she looked truly defeated. She may have been a horrible mother but somewhere under her façade of lies there had to be a truth to the matter. There had to be a reason she was crying and he decided that it wasn't because she was a career woman.

"Can they see us?" Crowley asked curiously.

"No of course not, you think that you'd be visible to them?"

"No, it's just I want to know how we're here."

Gavin shrugged, "well that's all part of the adventure. No point in spoiling it is there?"

Crowley turned to his son, almost tempted to begin screaming but his attention had yet again been caught by the younger version of himself.

"Mother here is the scotch that you asked for." Fergus approached his mother and tapped her on the shoulder whilst holding a small glass filled with an amber coloured liquid.

"Took yeh long enough boy!" The woman announced as she downed the glass in a single mouthful. "So that's it is it? You pour me only that much?"

"Do you want another glass mother?" The child would have been only five or six but the look on his face almost made him look younger.

"Yes, are you that stupid that you can't work out what I asked for?" The redhead watched as her child hurried away and once he had left her viewpoint she tossed her empty glass at the wall. It shattered into a million pieces and the witch began to sob. She knew it was Christmas but it wasn't like her own mother had ever made the effort for her.

The demon peered at the broken excuse for a family spread out before his eyes. He'd never seen his mother like that, she obviously had lots of secrets, and somehow just seeing this touched him deep inside.

"Why are you showing me this?" Crowley asked his son.

"To help you understand why you hate Christmas now." Gavin replied softly.

The older man let out an angry sigh and threw his hands into the air, "did you ever think that this isn't why I hate Christmas now. I hate it because I am a demon, I'm the bloody King of Hell for God's damn sake!"

"I don't think-"

"Well I don't care Gavin!" Crowley announced angrily. "I think I've seen enough!"

And a moment later Crowley's eyes flickered open and he was back sitting in his throne.

X-X-X-X

"Wow the King of Hell is drunk," a sardonic tone began slowly. "I wish I could say that I was surprised but no I can't."

Crowley glanced forward and his eyes met with those of Meg, a black-eyed demon that he had killed a couple of years back. He'd killed her with an angel blade meaning that there was no way in hell that she could be back.

"I honestly need to stop drinking." He decided as he placed his scotch down on the table.

"Yeah I'd say that again." Meg murmured as she approached the throne. "I hope you don't expect me to bow down and call you your highness because I ain't gonna forgive and forget the fact that you drove a damn blade into my heart."

"You must be a hallucination."

"Well I ain't Crowl-Crowl and you're coming with me." Meg stepped forward and began to beckon with her hand. She was dressed in a zipped up leather jacket with some tight black pants covering her legs and a pair of chunky black boots. Crowley decided that she wouldn't be such a bad Christmas fantasy if she weren't someone who he'd already brutally slaughtered.

"I'm not coming with you, you little bit-"

"Shut up," she stepped forward and grabbed him by the tie, cutting him off. "To hell you're not."

A tunnel of light formed suddenly and together they stepped into it.

X-X-X-X

"Where are we?" Crowley's eyes adjusted to his surroundings as he followed Meg out of the tunnel.

"This is where your help work." Meg began as she motioned toward a collection of demons all seated around typing frantically into their Surface Pros. "They work their demonic little asses off all year and you don't even let them have a little fun on Christmas. You're such a dictator Crowley."

Crowley was lost for words. The demon seemed to be tearing shreds out of him while he just stood back and watched. "Honestly you think these BLOODY demons even bother me in the slightest?"

Meg shrugged, "well maybe not these demons but I do know what will bother you. Come, come."

And yet again they entered the light.

X-X-X-X

"Sammy I found one!" Dean announced triumphantly as he waved around a Christmas wreath made solely of beer cans. "Remember when dad brought one of these home back when we were young."

"Yep and I also remember you promising that you'd find one of these about seven years ago." The younger Winchester sipped a glass of eggnog before he passed one to his brother.

"Hey drop the snide remarks. We've been busy starting and ending the apocalypse among other things." Dean took the glass of eggnog and took a long swig. "You really kick ass when it comes to making this stuff Sammy. Don't ever change."

"And I take that as a compliment." Sam sat himself down on one of the sofas in the bunker. "Anyway have you seen Cas? I have some eggnog ready for him?"

"Last time I heard from him he was busy sobbing through some episode of something on Netflix."

"What's he binge watching now?"

"Bones. Some cop show."

"And that beautiful psychologist deserved much more than an abusive childhood and a brutal ending." Castiel entered the room with his cheeks still stained with tears.

"Hey Cas calm your farm, it's just TV." Dean rolled his eyes.

"I know but his girlfriend was pregnant with his baby and I don't understand how humans can be so cruel!"

"How can you call humans cruel when you've seen what angels can do? They're much more badass!"

"Why am I here? I don't want to see Moose, Squirrel and their pet angel sobbing over trashy procedurals." Crowley let out a groan as he glanced around the bunker and then back to Meg.

"We all know you do. Your little bro-crush on Dean was even news back when I was around."

"I don't have a 'bro-crush' on Dean. You don't understand what goes on in hell. You haven't actually been there in years and things change." The king folded his arms and looked down at his feet.

"Well if it's not a bro-crush then what is it? Are you lonely? Is that it? Because if it is then wouldn't you rather be spending Christmas here with them then all alone in your throne room?"

"No I hate company and I hate the Winchesters even more." He claimed this but he actually agreed with Meg. Bad karaoke and cocktails actually made for the demon's fondest memories.

"Well I don't believe you. You better get your priorities straight or you're gonna be too late!"

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean the end is neigh!" The demon let out a small laugh and grabbed Crowley's hand in order to pull him back to his house.

X-X-X-X

"What is with this Scotch?" Crowley asked himself but despite that he took another long swig.

X-X-X-X

"Crowley I order you to follow me." A tall brunette stood over his throne. She was dressed in a long black dress exposing a line of cleavage and she had long flowing brown hair that fell in waves down her back.

"And who the hell are you now?"

"I'm Amara and 'Uncle Crowley' you know me well."

"Amara…" The king trailed off in a disbelieving tone. "You've changed."

"Yes I have but my motives still remain in tact and you have to follow me."

"What if I don't want to?" Crowley asked as though he was a small child talking to his mother.

"Well then I do this." She clicked her fingers and a pair of demon proof handcuffs surrounded Crowley's hands. "You must come."

She led him into a tunnel of red light, which slowly began to encompass them.

X-X-X-X

This time Crowley didn't walk past anything familiar. He glanced ahead and saw nothing bust destruction. Cars and windows were shattered while corpses littered the roads. Blood stained everything and screams were evident in the atmosphere.

"What does this have to do with Christmas?"

Amara smiled, "Crowley this is Christmas, the Christmas of the future. Don't you love it?"

"What happened?"

"God didn't answer and I had no choice but to destroy his creation." She opened her eyes as if to display mock sympathy but Crowley could see through the façade.

"And the Winchester's did not a bloody thing to stop you?"

"Well they tried. Sam's in the cage and Dean, feisty little thing that one, he's within me. We are one and I feel stronger due to it."

"Where am I in all of this?"

"Oh that reminds me." Amara clicked her fingers and suddenly the pair appeared in Crowley's throne room. Obscenities were scrawled along the walls and down on the ground lay a corpse – Crowley's corpse. He had been brutally slaughtered and appeared to have been stabbed hundreds of times. "There you are. No need worry about thanking me, it was my pleasure."

The demon's jaw grew slack. "And why are you showing me this?"

"The future has plenty of loop holes and it can be changed with a single differentiation in movement. Just remember that Crowley."

She tapped her red nails against the wall and shook her head. "You can change these if you work with those Winchesters." Smoke rose from the ground and Crowley's eyes slowly drew to a close.

X-X-X-X

 **DECEMBER 25** **TH** **2015**

Scotch was all he tasted as he finally rose from his throne. He tossed the now empty bottle to the side and rubbed at forehead. He didn't even know that demons could feel hung-over until just then.

The past night came back to him suddenly in a flurry of memories. His mother, Gavin, Meg and then Amara. His corpse flashed in the forefront of his mind and he decided that he needed to take both Meg and Amara's advice.

"Call the Winchesters," Crowley announced to a black-eyed demon that was lulling around nearby.

"Why sir?"

"Tell them that I am coming and that we have some matters to discuss."

He also planned some on drinking some eggnog because it was Christmas day after all.

THE END

 _ **MERRY CHRISTMAS 2015**_

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 _AN: I hope you enjoyed and if you wouldn't mind I'd appreciate reviews!_

 _Thanks for reading!_


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